The Skandian's Strife
by thestealthyGreninja
Summary: The battle of scandia, a horrific war many a man would die. This is a story about One of those men who died to protect his country. This story is a One Shot


**This is a writing project I did in school that i thought you guys might like, this is a one shot. I sort of I haven't read the books in a while xD so it might be a little inaccurate to what really happen. Hope you all enjoy my little school project :D**

Hurin wasn't the strongest person in his company, but for the age of twenty-seven he was pretty strong, and had a very sociable personality. He would talk 'till the cows came home,' but he knew his boundaries on how long he could talk without irritating his men. He was the commander of his legion, and was very strategic in every movement. He could pull together a speech that would have his men excited for hours and sometimes days.

Hurin walked down the streets of Halison. The city was abuzz with the news of the Temaji. There were patches of sparkling snow on the ground. The cold wind blew at Hurin's face, giving him goosebumps all over. He pondered, _which house was it again?_ Even after being to the Obejarl's house more than his fair share of times, he still couldn't quite remember where it was. He could hear Slagor yelling, and he then saw two jailers dragging the traitor Slagor by the legs down the street and towards the dungeon. Hurin hoped Slagor would rot in the dungeon forever. Looking around, the buildings towered over him blocking his sight, and making it difficult to know which way to go.

Just as he was about to come around the corner, he remembered one distinct detail: the house was gigantic, towering over most houses around. _A pretty intimidating sight,_ he thought. He felt like a dimwit. Having so many things on his mind that it had slipped from his memory, he couldn't believe that he had forgotten that it was the largest structure in town, maybe even the biggest building in all of Scandia.

When Hurin walked into the Obejarl's house, Erak called to him, "Ah, Hurin, just the man I wanted to see." Hurin then bowed in front of Erak and the Obejarl. As he bowed, he saw another figure next to them. It was a man wearing a cape with a variety of greens and browns. The Obejarl then introduced the man to him saying, "This is the renowned ranger, Halt of Areluen."

Hurin walked towards Halt and shook the ranger's hand. Hurin could feel the tough skin against his. The ranger's muscles seemed to be wrought of steel. _A solid handshake indeed,_ thought Hurin. After shaking the ranger's hand, Hurin questioned, "What is our plan to defend Obejarl?"

"That is why I brought you here. We need as many strategic minds as we can muster together," the Obejarl replied.

For the next half a fortnight, they mused over which plan would be best and how they could best put it into action. It was one in the morning and was cool, frigid and frosty. A Scandian sat on the wall, wrapped up in his fur skin cloak. He heard the crunch of the frozen snow as if something had landed or stepped on it, off setting the quiet. He sprang to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him more aware of the noise of a whistle. On instinct, he yanked his shield in front of his face, then he heard a solid _thwack_ as an arrow hit his shield. He hid behind the barricade, then, taking out his horn blew it to sound the alarm.

Everyone in town was awake in a matter of minutes. The Scandian showed Halt the arrow to confirm if it was a Temiji's, which it indeed was. Halt then asked his apprentice Will, to gather all the slaves that he had trained in archery. The whole army of Scandia stood waiting in anticipation for the Temiji to make their move. The sun's bright yellow rays broke through the the starry night sky, a clear sign that dawn had come. The Temiji and their stallions lined the horizon, an almost breathtaking sight. But many who saw this amazing view would never breath again.

The world was silent for a moment, but then the Temiji urged their horses forward, and the frozen ground trampled underneath the hooves of the Temiji's mighty stallions. Hurin, along with his company, watched a whole group of Temiji topple off their horses, arrows embedded in their breasts. They then charged into the Temiji, and so began the slaughter. Hurin chopped at the horse's legs, literally bringing the Temiji off their high horses. He locked the Temiji's sword between his hilt and the blade. Hurin then proceeded to punch the living crap out of him, making the man's face warped and disfigured. Hurin then dropped the Temiji warrior, his knuckles bloodied with the kill, and picked up his axe. Another Temiji ran at Hurin, and Hurin dodged the swing of the warrior's sword with extreme ease, and in one fluid motion cleaved the man in two. The man's torso dropping like a rock down on to the ground his blood stained intestate spilling from him with not a single sign of life in the warrior.

The Obejarl yelled for the Scandians to rally to him, and Hurin chopped his way through the pack of Temiji warrior's, their crismon red blood staining his silver axe. Arrows missed Hurin by millimeters, shaving his dirty blonde hair off of his head. The Obejarl was surrounded by Temiji, but Hurin's axe was so sharp that he could slice through chain mail and steel, like a hot knife through butter. Hurin swung his massive axe, carving into the Temiji's back. The man screamed as the axe crushed his spine, which then splintered into thousands of pieces, killing the warrior from the inside.

Hurin then crushed the circle of Temiji around the Obejarl, and yelled to the Obejarl, "Glad you're still alive my lord."

"As am I Hurin," replied the Obejarl, as he struck down a man where he stood. Hurin then saw in his peripheral vision a barrage of arrows coming towards them. Hurin jumped in front of the Obejarl, taking the arrows that were aimed at his Obejarl, and two of the arrows struck him in the chest while the other hit him in his lower torso. Hurin's body went cold, his legs faltered, his consciousness seem to fade, he coughed and blood rolled out of his throat and down his cheek. Not even adrenaline in his veins could keep him in the physical realm. The last thought he ever had was, _did I save him?_

The Obejarl went berserk, and nothing stood a chance against his might. His muscles seemed to become twice their original size. He sliced through the Temiji's bone, again like a hot knife through butter, which bewildered both the Temiji men and horses. He slaughtered hundreds Temiji, but in the end lost his own life, for he was too injured and bled out. The Temiji retreated, never to come back. Both Hurin and the Obejarl died with weapon in hand, like warriors should.


End file.
